


To Tie a Knot

by KatieComma



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur is NOT a Dick About It, But Maybe In A Future Sequel, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Oblivious Merlin (Merlin), Romance, no smut in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:07:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26691151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatieComma/pseuds/KatieComma
Summary: Uther has a feast so Arthur can meet an eligible young woman.Arthur has no interest.And he doesn't understand why, when he holds so much power at his beck and call, that he can't have the one thing he truly wants.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 390





	To Tie a Knot

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for the beta Orianess!!!!! My sister from another mister! You're a gem! <3

Arthur wanders through the crowd of people all night. There are lords and nobles and ladies and servants and glasses of mead and plates of meat. And Arthur feels numb.

There’s a girl sitting near the head of the table, next to her father. She’s beautiful with cascading red hair that falls in waves to her waist. Her skin is so pale Arthur thinks she’s probably never seen the sun. Her brown eyes are deep and enchanting.

And yet…

Arthur has no interest. 

Uther is excited. This could be a marriage that means a strong bond between kingdoms. He urges Arthur to speak to the girl, even going so far as to physically push Arthur toward her.

They talk, and he learns that the girl, whose name has already escaped him, is dull and predictable. It’s not her fault. She’s been locked in a castle her whole life being taught to be a lady. Which means, learning to play instruments and sew and act as an ornament to the man she’ll one day marry. Her parents saw beauty in her early, and have been coaching her to be the perfect noble’s wife who will do what she’s told and not complain.

But Arthur’s not just any noble. And he wants more. Despite her beauty, she is hollow and Arthur could never be happy with a hollow little toy to parade around during banquets and festivals. Arthur craves passion that consumes him like fire, and companionship, and a partner who’s interesting and keeps him guessing. Arthur Pendragon was never meant for a predictable life.

But that’s what the girl is: predictable. She laughs at every joke, and when he tries to steer the conversation to her interests, she turns it right back around at him asking about hunting or battle.

And so Arthur avoids her, wandering among the nobles and making conversation where he can find it. But his mind is elsewhere. His eyes stray from the glamorous company to the servants.

Merlin and Gwen stand side by side at the edge of the torchlight. They stick together most of the night, and they laugh together often. Arthur feels jealousy twine inside him and curl around his guts like a snake.

He finds his eyes wandering to them more and more throughout the night, and though a dark mood urges him toward drink, he turns away from it. He knows it will just mean a sore head and worse mood in the morning.

Morgana departs for bed, stealing Gwen with her, and Merlin is left alone looking forlorn at the edge of a party he cannot partake in. And it makes Arthur suddenly sad. That all these people should be parading in front of Merlin, who can only watch. Merlin who can never have a royal feast, but only pick the bones once everyone has gone to bed.

It’s unfair.

Arthur knows from experience that many of the nobles he’s smiling at and patting on the shoulder are horrible men, who have done terrible things. And though Merlin can be sarcastic and buck authority, he is gentle and kind at heart. A good man through and through. Arthur has seen it in person: the way Merlin would put himself in harm’s way to save people, when he has no ability or power to prevent said harm.

Arthur ducks into a corner, and waits several minutes for anyone to notice that he’s not at the centre of the party. But the room is beginning to come unravelled as those left drink more and more. The princess has left anyway, and when no one calls on him after twenty minutes or so, Arthur retreats into the hall and slowly trudges up to his room.

With each stair the emotions surge in him like waves on the sea shore. With all the power at his hand, and all the power looming in his future, Arthur is still helpless. He cannot have what he truly wants. It makes him ache and rage and despair all in the same moment. His body is rent with emotion and it pricks at his eyes and makes his throat feel swollen.

He tries to scold himself; to banish the thoughts and desires at the heart of all he feels. Arthur Pendragon shouldn’t be brought to his knees by silly emotions. By love. Arthur Pendragon will be king of Camelot and rule with the resilience of a man who is above petty emotion; a man who thinks of the good of the people and not himself.

It doesn’t work. The emotions come regardless, and when he ducks into his room his knees betray him and he falls back against the door as it closes. He fists his hair and pulls, hoping the sharp prickly pain of it will help. It doesn’t. He growls a frustrated noise into the air and sags back against the door again feeling more helpless than he has in his life. He’s not used to feeling helpless, and frustration joins the torrent of feelings.

A soft knock comes to the door he’s leaned against. It’s sharp, but not loud, the sound of knobbly knuckles meeting wood. Merlin’s knock.

“Arthur?” Merlin ventures through the door.

Arthur clears his throat and returns, “What is it Merlin?”

“Are you… alright?” Merlin asks tentatively.

“Fine, just fine,” Arthur reassures, though his voice wavers. He feels a hot traitorous tear streak down his cheek.

Of course Merlin would have noticed he was out of sorts and come looking for him. Merlin, who cares so much even when he pretends not to.

“Can I come in?” Merlin asks, and then adds: “To stoke the fire. I’d meant to do it before you came up. But… it’s earlier than I expected.”

“I’ll be fine. You can go,” Arthur dismisses.

“It’s cold,” Merlin says. So stubborn. “You’ll catch a chill. It won’t take long.”

Arthur sighs. Resignation and a bone-deep sadness wash all the other emotions away. He steps away from the door, his knees strong again with the trudging walk of a man putting one foot in front of another on his way to a destiny that he doesn’t want.

“Fine,” Arthur says.

The door creaks and Merlin opens it only a crack to slip inside before he closes it again; as though his entrance is a secret. A tryst with a lover, or a clandestine meeting.

“Be quick,” Arthur says, but there’s no command in his words. He slumps in his desk chair, afraid to take the chair by the fire and be so close to Merlin. He opts for the dark corner of his desk.

Merlin goes to the fireplace and begins to get the fire going again. “You left early,” he observes.

Arthur grunts in return.

“No interest in Princess Catherine?” Merlin asks, shooting a look Arthur’s way.

“What is there to be interested in?” Arthur asks with a sigh. “She’s as dull as her name. About as much personality as a broomstick.”

“Well now,” Merlin says with his perfect, wry little grin. “Broomsticks might be quite friendly. How would you know? Have you ever used a broomstick?”

Arthur laughs. And it just reminds him that this is what he wants. What he craves. And he can never have it. The laugh cuts off with a sorry little sob.

“Are you alright?” Merlin asks warily, standing and coming to the desk. The fire is beginning to catch behind him and lights him up in a halo of orange.

“Why wouldn’t I be alright?” Arthur asks, and can’t hide all of the emotion that rides in his voice.

“You seemed in a foul mood tonight,” Merlin says. He goes to the wardrobe and draws out a pair of soft pants, and a shirt for Arthur to sleep in. “You didn’t speak much. You seemed restless.”

Arthur sighs. Why not be honest? What is there to lose? Friendship. Companionship. Arthur doesn’t care anymore. “What is it to be King if I can’t have the things I want?” He asks.

Merlin tosses the sleep clothes on the end of the bed and pauses. “You’re Prince of Camelot, Arthur. You have everything anyone could ever want. There’s nothing you can’t have.”

Arthur laughs, and it comes out bitter. He lets his head fall back to knock against the high wood back of the desk chair.

“I know what this is about,” Merlin says. Arthur can hear the smirk in his voice. “This is about Gwen, right?”

“Gwen?” Arthur asks, eyes opening wide as he meets Merlin’s eye. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw you,” Merlin says. He comes close to the desk and fiddles with an ink pot, his nimble fingers never able to stay still for long. “You were watching her all night.”

“I wasn’t,” Arthur says firmly.

“Come on Arthur,” Merlin teases. “I was standing next to her and you couldn’t take your eyes off of her for a moment.”

And here’s the moment when he can take the opportunity Merlin’s obliviousness has given him and bow out of the conversation with his dignity still in tact. Or…

“I wasn’t looking at _her_ ,” Arthur says, watching Merlin’s downturned face for a reaction.

“Well then who?” Merlin asks, meeting Arthur’s eye. “There wasn’t anyone around us that I remember.”

Arthur raises his eyebrows into an expression that implies: it’s obvious, figure it out.

Merlin doesn’t figure it out. “I don’t understand,” he says.

“You, Merlin,” Arthur admits. Ready for this to be over once and for all. Merlin can quit his employ and Arthur won’t be tortured at his closeness each and every day.

“Me?” Merlin asks. “Why? Is it because I was wearing that stupid hat again? I know I look foolish. I really hate it. But no one looks good in it really.”

Arthur quirks a smile. Merlin does look stupid in the hat, but Arthur had barely noticed he was wearing it.

“Think Merlin,” Arthur says. “When I say I spent the night thinking about things I cannot have, and that I was looking at you. What does that add up to exactly?”

“I’m sorry, I’m not following,” Merlin says, his face genuinely lacking any understanding.

“Merlin?”

“Yes?”

“Leave me alone,” Arthur says.

“Do you want help with…” Merlin motions to the clothing he’s laid out on the bed.

“No, I can manage,” Arthur replies. He leans forward in the chair, setting his elbows to his knees and his face into his hands.

He waits until he hears Merlin’s steps cross the room, and the door open and close before he gets up and undresses. He’s pulled the loose linen shirt on and is just finishing with his pants when Merlin’s rapping comes to the door again.

“What is it now, Merlin?” Arthur asks, focused on tying the drawstring in the dim light of the fire.

The door opens and closes.

“Me,” Merlin says. “You meant me!” He hisses into the room as though there’s someone anywhere nearby to hear.

Arthur looks up. Merlin’s standing by the door, his hand on the latch as though he’s expecting to need a quick escape. Their gazes lock.

“The thing you couldn’t have,” Merlin says. “You meant me?”

All of the emotions that had been banished by Arthur’s ennui return full force and he chokes in a breath just as his chest feels like it’s closing up.

Arthur nods, unable to speak.

This is it. The gut-churning, heart racing, thrilling feel of love charging through his body. It’s what he needs to feel. Love could never be a dormant, tame thing to have vaguely in the touch of skin on skin. It should be wild and feral and irresistible.

He’s suddenly afraid of himself. He feels as though he’s willing to do anything to pull Merlin close and hold him tightly.

“But I’m just a servant,” Merlin blurts, still standing his his hand on the door.

Arthur shakes his head. “No, Merlin,” he says softly. “Not to me. You could never ‘just’ be anything.”

“Arthur don’t do this,” Merlin says, “not if you don’t mean it.” He shakes his head wildly, his perfect unruly brown hair tangling with the motion. Arthur wants to run his fingers through it, but not to straighten it, to make it more wild. “I couldn’t stand to be some… dalliance for you.” He looks at the floor as though he’s afraid of the answer but can’t leave before he gets it.

Arthur takes a slow step toward Merlin, afraid to frighten him off since he looks like a rabbit about to bolt. “I do mean it,” he says firmly. “But… even if you feel the same Merlin, you must understand that my father would never allow such a thing. If he got word of it, even the smallest whisper, he’d…” Arthur feels choked again. He knows exactly what his father would do. It would involve the accusation of magic and a hangman’s noose around Merlin’s neck.

“I don’t care,” Merlin says, finally stepping away from the door and looking up. His blue eyes look wild and desperate, like the sea on the day of a storm. “I don’t care Arthur. He’s a foolish old man and I don’t care what he-”

Arthur takes the few final steps to Merlin and puts a hand over his mouth to silence him, wrapping an arm around his waist to hold him still. “Quiet Merlin,” he begs. “Please, please don’t. It’s treason to speak so of the king.” They’re so close, and Merlin’s breath is whispering across Arthur’s palm and through his fingers. “You know what he would do. It’s not a risk I can take when I-”

Merlin’s eyes get wider still. He reaches up and pulls Arthur’s hand away from his mouth. “When you what?” He whispers.

Arthur closes his eyes and takes a deep breath to summon his knightly courage. But he’s not brave enough to open his eyes when he says it. “When I love you as I do. I couldn’t lose you. Not like that. Not because of me.”

He feels Merlin move forward and keeps his eyes closed as their foreheads meet. He breathes in the scent of Merlin; spices and tinctures from Gaius’ workshop, the lingering aroma of roasted meat from the banquet, and that earthy sweetness that’s all Merlin.

“Well it’s not like we’ll run ‘round telling anyone,” Merlin says, “is it?” The grin is back in his voice.

“Merlin,” Arthur almost groans with how badly he wants this. He wants to just give in.

“We can keep it secret,” Merlin says. “Just me and you.”

“You’re shite at keeping secrets Merlin,” Arthur says, feeling a smile curl his lip at the familiar bickering. He opens his eyes and pulls back to see a stunned look on Merlin’s face.

“I’m not actually,” Merlin says, suddenly serious. “I’m really quite good at it.”

Arthur understands suddenly that this means there’s a secret between them. He unwraps his arm from around Merlin’s waist and steps back. “You’ve kept something from me.”

Merlin’s face is sober and apologetic. “Did you mean what you said?” He asks. “When you said you loved me?”

Arthur’s chest feels like it’s collapsing. He doesn’t know how to answer. Doesn’t Merlin know him well enough to understand that he could never lie about such a thing?

“I need you to say it Arthur,” Merlin demands. There’s so much command and desperation in the words that Arthur feels compelled to speak.

“Yes,” Arthur says. “I meant every word.”

“Then if you love me you will understand, and forgive me,” Merlin says.

“What have you kept from me, Merlin?” Arthur asks, not trying to disguise the hurt in his voice.

“I have magic,” Merlin says simply, his determination and command fading to the nervous, impish smile that Arthur cherishes.

Arthur feels as though a volley of arrows has gone through his chest. And then he’s sure that he’s misheard. “I’m sorry?” He distantly hears himself ask. It sounds hollow.

“I have magic,” Merlin says more hesitantly, but he barrels ahead. “But you must understand that I’ve only ever used it for good. It’s not something to be feared Arthur. Like any weapon it is at the behest of the user. So if you believe I have a good heart then you’ve nothing to fear from me.” He reaches out his arms tentatively as though he wants to touch Arthur but is afraid.

Arthur’s sure that he had more mead than he’d thought. “I need to sit down,” he says as he turns and wanders toward the bed, falling back to sit on the edge.

Merlin follows tentatively. “This was a mistake,” he says softly.

Arthur’s mind races. So many things make sense now. So many close calls and mysterious things happening. Arthur had always thought he was blessed as the future king, and that such a blessing had given him advantage. But now he understands. It was Merlin’s subtle hand, changing things in Arthur’s favour. Saving him and turning the tides of fate to the benefit of good.

Merlin turns for the door.

“Can you show me?” Arthur asks, feeling suddenly humbled.

Merlin turns, a look of shock on his face. “Show you?”

“Your magic,” Arthur clarifies. “Can you do something simple? To show me?”

Merlin’s doubts melt away to a smile full of relief and joy. He nods, and his chin quivers a little. He thinks for a moment before he utters some soft words that hiss and growl from his mouth, but Arthur can’t understand any of them. Merlin’s eyes glow golden and a small bowl floats from the desk into his hands.

Arthur gasps, entranced. “Again,” he requests. “Come closer this time.”

Merlin walks to the desk and carefully sets the bowl back before coming close to Arthur and kneeling at his feet. He holds up his hand. There’s a single string of leather sitting in his palm. He keeps his eyes locked on Arthur’s and speaks the strange words again. They sound jumbled and nonsensical to Arthur’s ears.

Merlin’s eyes glow golden again, lighting up in the darkness.

The leather cord rises from Merlin’s palm into the air where it ties itself into a knot before it floats down again. Arthur reaches out his palm, placing it over Merlin’s so he catches the cord instead. It feels like leather cord. It’s not warm to the touch. There’s nothing to indicate that anything but deft fingers tied the knot in the centre.

He closes his hand around the leather cord and meets Merlin’s eye again. He puts his empty hand to Merlin’s cheek and rubs his thumb over cheekbone.

Merlin pushes into the touch, like he’s starved for the contact.

“You’re beautiful,” Arthur breathes reverently.

Merlin blushes and looks down to his lap where his hands twist together nervously.

Arthur tips Merlin’s head back up so their eyes can meet. “Your eyes… when you… do magic, your eyes are beautiful.”

Merlin smiles gratefully. His eyes, that are back to their normal colour, well with moisture in the darkness.

“You’ve helped me, haven’t you?” Arthur asks, taking his hand back and turning the piece of leather between his fingers. “All this time you’ve been helping me, and never said a word?”

“You’re very good at getting into trouble,” Merlin says. “Someone has to see you get out of it.”

“I’m sorry I doubted you,” Arthur admits honestly. “That you could keep a secret. I’m sorry you had to keep this one from me.” He twirls the leather to indicate he means the magic.

“It wasn’t your burden to bear,” Merlin says, smiling sadly. “But now… you can’t love someone when you don’t really know who they are.”

“And you want me to love you?” Arthur asks.

Merlin’s eyes are full of so much hope Arthur feels gutted. “If it would make you happy Arthur,” he says softly. “I would move mountains to make you happy.”

Arthur laughs. “It means so much more knowing that you actually could move mountains if you wanted to.”

Merlin laughs in return and straightens up to kneel tall. He grabs Arthur’s face in his hands and pulls their lips together. Their laughter mingles and then fades as their lips fit against each other and hushes the sound.

Arthur makes sure to keep the leather strap tangled with his fingers so he doesn’t drop it, and wraps his fingers around the back of Merlin’s neck, holding them together. Their noses press against each other and their lips fit like mortared stone, a firm sturdy base to build on.

Arthur feels like he's been struck by lightning. The rush of adrenaline and excitement that tingles through his body is foreign and exhilarating. And he thinks again that this is what love should be. Hurried confessions in the dark, shared secrets, touches that feel like fire and ice at the same time.

He never wants Merlin out of his hands, out of his sight. He wants to hang on tight until he burns up like he’s wrapping his arms around a shooting star.

Their lips part briefly and Arthur says, “Stay,” before they're kissing again.

Merlin gasps against his lips at the request. His hands slide down from Arthur’s face to take handfuls of his shirt. He rolls his lips away from Arthurs, and though Arthur chases, Merlin is persistent.

“I can’t stay Arthur,” he says simply. “We actually just talked about this, if you recall.” He laughs a little before his voice sobers. “It’s dangerous.”

“Please Merlin,” Arthur says, his hands tightening at the back of Merlin’s neck, the leather cord biting into his fingers. He wonders if Merlin is afraid of what he’s asking for, so he decides to clarify. “My head’s spinning. I had a little much to drink tonight. Holding you makes things clear again. I just want to hold you for a while.”

Merlin wraps his arms around Arthur’s waist and tucks his face into Arthur’s chest.

Arthur’s arms find their way around Merlin’s shoulders and it feels so right.

“Your knees must hurt,” Arthur says after a while. “Come lie with me.”

Merlin is hesitant as he pulls back. He swallows heavily, lit warm by the firelight. “Not for long,” he says. “I can’t risk falling asleep. I really can’t stay.”

“I know,” Arthur says, resigned.

Merlin pulls away finally so they can get into bed.

Arthur takes the cord of leather to his chest of drawers and locks it in with the rest of his most precious things. He looks up to find Merlin watching him.

“What are you doing?” Merlin asks. “It’s just a piece of leather.”

Arthur shakes his head. “It’s so much more than that,” he says. “And I’ll keep it if I want.” His last words tease.

Merlin pulls his boots off and they crawl under the blankets together. Merlin fits perfectly against Arthur’s side, arm wrapped around him, weight leaning into him.

Arthur feels it at his core: they belong together and were destined to find each other; to find their way to this point.

“Arthur?” Merlin asks.

Arthur turns toward the question and kisses Merlin’s forehead. “What is it, Merlin?”

Merlin hesitates. “Would you...” He trails off.

Arthur puts a hand to Merlin’s face and pulls it up so their eyes can meet in the dim light of the room. “You’ve never been afraid to speak your mind to me Merlin,” he says with a smile. “Please don’t start now.”

Merlin smiles in return, his lips parting to reveal his perfectly crooked teeth. “Kiss me again,” he demands.

“As my love so commands,” Arthur says dramatically as he rolls to his side and slides down in the bed a little so their lips can meet.

Their mouths open to each other, warm and inviting. One of Merlin’s knees pushes boldly between Arthur’s legs and he lets it. Tangled together Arthur feels like they’re becoming one person and he’s never wanted something so badly.

Despite the depth of their kisses they’re slow and romantic; a gentle testing of the waters between them as they learn each other.

Arthur runs his fingers through Merlin’s hair, caresses cheekbone with his thumb, wraps his arms tightly around Merlin’s bony ribcage.

Their kisses slow, and Merlin tucks himself under Arthur’s chin.

Arthur’s breathing deepens and he’s never felt so relaxed and safe as when he’s been wrapped up with Merlin. Knowing the man in his arms is stronger than he’d ever imagined and has spent years protecting him without any thought for himself is sobering and makes him feel safer than behind a shield wall of Camelot knights.

Sleep pulls him down to dreams of glowing golden eyes and warm days of sunshine and happiness.

A shifting in the real world wakes him.

The warmth of Merlin is pulling away.

“Arthur,” Merlin’s voice is soft. “Arthur I have to go.”

“No,” Arthur whines.

He can hear the smile in Merlin’s words. “I have to. I’ll see you in the morning when I bring up breakfast.”

A soft kiss touches Arthur’s forehead, warm, a little wet, and so full of love Arthur wants to cry in his half-asleep vulnerable state. Instead he reaches out with a fumbling hand, opening his sleep-bleary eyes but unable to see anything in the darkness.

Merlin’s fingers slide into Arthur’s hand until their fingers slot together.

Merlin’s lips find his own. The kiss is a gentle parting kiss, but it speaks of “I’ll see you tomorrow,” instead of “Goodbye.”

Merlin pulls back and speaks against Arthur’s lips. “Go back to sleep,” he says softly.

Arthur breathes the words into his lungs and they act like a spell, sending him back down to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry to all Catherine’s!!!! I needed a name... 😢


End file.
